Chapter 106: Evade and Evade Again
It was right after parting ways with Leona Rockfreed.
Standing before the walls of the Border Guard’s fortress, Mattis, a bodyguard knight, effortlessly drew the attention of everyone around.
It was clearly intentional.
A show of *presence*.
“Killing intent can become presence. Once you unlock your sixth sense, it’s doable. Simple, even. Ah, though it might be a little challenging for someone like our squad leader.”
What a mad bastard Jaxson was.
His words always cut deep—sharp like a blade forged in a smithy.
There’s a knife in his speech.
Not that Encrid particularly cared about it.
He just dismissed it as the rambling of a lunatic.
In the end, though, Jaxson’s words weren’t wrong.
The sixth sense had opened.
Though Encrid had previously managed to use something akin to presence during the mission to catch the cat, embodying it had proven difficult.
This time, however, he had finally managed to master it. Relaxing his shoulders made it surprisingly easier.
And in the end, he had used it.
When advising Torres and Finn to stay vigilant, Encrid spoke with his presence fully unleashed.
And now…
“Move aside; I’ll lure them away.”
“What?” Finn reacted.
“What the hell are you saying?” Torres responded too.
They hadn’t known each other long—Finn only for a short time, and Torres not much longer. They weren’t exactly at the stage of risking their lives for one another.
“This is insane. Rangers don’t abandon their comrades.”
“That goes for me as well.”
But why were they both so eager to help?
Finn and Torres’ eyes shone with conviction. Their determination was evident.
Yeah, you’re both decent people. I get that.
But still…
“Get lost. You’re in my way.”
Encrid’s voice was cold. There was no time for lengthy explanations.
In other iterations of today, he had tried explaining.
But they clung to him like stubborn ticks, refusing to let go.
“…Why does this seem cool?” Finn muttered.
“This guy?” Torres glared, veins bulging in his neck. Still, both of them seemed to understand his words.
Encrid was sincere.
“Stay at maximum range and rejoin after I’m done. I have a plan. Everyone can survive.”
His tone was more commanding now. This wasn’t his first time; he knew showing resolve was better than wasting time explaining every detail.
Soon enough…
“See you later.” Torres said with a layered meaning before moving aside.
Finn followed, glancing back at Encrid twice as he went.
Watching the two retreat, Encrid thought to himself.
Even with them separated, the spearmen still needed to focus entirely on him.
How could he ensure that?
He already knew the answer.
Glancing back, Encrid shouted.
“Roger, remove your helmet!”
To the uninformed, the words meant nothing.
“Roger! You, who first killed my hair and sent it to the heavens!”
Like a bard reciting poetry, Encrid’s voice rang out.
In seventy-eight iterations of today, he had learned about Roger’s quirks.
The bad blood between Roger and Finn had its own reasons.
Roger was known as the commander who never removed his helmet.
That nickname had left an impression on Encrid.
From the crown of his head to his forehead, Roger’s scalp was barren—a desert.
And it was his sore spot.
“Do you carry a barren wasteland atop your head?”
Initially, Encrid wasn’t sure if it would work.
But confirmation had been easy.
In another iteration, he had been captured by Roger and happened to remove his helmet.
“Bald, huh?”
The moment he uttered those words, Roger’s face twisted in rage.
In conclusion, redirecting Roger’s grudge from Finn to himself had been necessary.
‘A bit regrettable, but…’
Encrid ran his fingers through his thick, black hair, letting it flow through his hand, making its presence known.
“You… that bastard?”
Roger’s eyes turned feral.
If he got caught now, it wouldn’t be a simple death.
Torture would be the least of it.
So getting caught was not an option.
Encrid ran, even as he saw Finn and Torres retreat. Roger barked his orders.
“Catch that one!”
Fueled by rage, twenty-nine spearmen charged.
Even in his fury, Roger would soon split his forces to send some after Finn and Torres.
‘It’s about time.’
Before Encrid could finish his thought…
From the opposite side of him and the spearmen, the howl of a monster rang out.
“Awooooo!”
On nights when dual moons shone brightly, the surroundings were illuminated.
Under the moonlight, the approaching monsters were clearly visible.
Wolf-headed beasts, Lycans, bounding forward with powerful strides.
“Hoo.”
Seeing them, Encrid exhaled deeply to steady his breathing and came to a halt.
This was the decisive moment. He needed to tie down both the spearmen and the Lycans.
‘Look at me.’
The technique to unleash presence.
It was pouring one’s intent to kill into every fiber of their being.
It was believing with all one’s heart that they could cut down everyone present.
*Schring.*
Gripping the hilt of his sword, Encrid slowly drew it from its sheath. The blade caught the moonlight, reflecting a gleam.
He stepped half a foot forward with his right leg and declared with his entire body.
Come any closer, and I will cut you down.
Presence, killing intent, and aura.
In words, it was one of the three, but in practice, it was a formless pressure that spread outward.
It was so intense that the spearmen and Lycans alike forgot about Torres and Finn, completely captivated by Encrid’s overwhelming presence.
Drawn by it, both the spearmen and the Lycans charged.
And at the center of it all was Encrid.
It seemed almost suicidal.
—
Roger was growing increasingly frustrated.
The job of catching that wildcat of a woman had turned complicated.
But should he let her go?
No. He wanted her dead.
She had killed his brother, after all.
“Damn it, keep chasing.”
He vowed to capture and kill her. At the moment he made that decision, Encrid’s taunts broke through.
From “remove your helmet” to “barren wasteland.”
His heart pounded. His blood boiled with rage.
“That bastard…?”
Roger resolved himself.
When he caught that bastard, he wouldn’t let him die easily.
He’d make him beg for death.
Losing control, he shouted for his men to pursue and ran after them himself.
Then it came.
“Awooo!”
The howling of beasts.
Seeing the Lycans charging from the other side, Roger’s frustration boiled over.
“Damn it.”
How had things spiraled so out of control?
“That bastard…”
It was because of that bastard’s taunts about his scalp, as if reciting poetry.
Because of that, he had momentarily lost his composure.
“Damn it.”
Roger cursed at the Lycans and tried to calm himself, but it wasn’t easy.
What should he do?
His decision didn’t take long.
‘Kill them all.’
Letsha or whoever cherished these beasts wouldn’t matter now.
If they formed a proper line, even a colony of Lycans could be dealt with.
As he opened his mouth to issue commands, he saw it.
The one they had been chasing—Encrid—exhaled and stopped.
He gripped his sword and spoke with his body. With his presence. With his intent to kill.
‘Come closer, and I’ll cut you down.’
In Roger’s eyes, the entire world faded, leaving only Encrid, sword in hand.
If it was like this for Roger, how would the other soldiers feel?
Without the order to halt, the spearmen advanced as they always had—engaging the nearest enemy.
And so, the battle began.
Thus—
*Thrust!*
The spear struck forward with all its might.
*Awooo!*
*Clang!*
The wolf-like beast’s claws deflected the spear tip just as it came close.
The dissonant sounds of the wolf’s howling, claws scraping, and spears clashing filled the air.
In that moment, a sliver of cold rationality returned to Roger’s mind.
*Ah, damn.*
They had charged in without forming proper ranks.
It was all because of impatience.
Or perhaps it was the enemy mocking his weakness.
And then there was the presence—overwhelming and unavoidable.
All of it had led to this chaos.
—
*Whoosh.*
The first to reach Encrid was a Lycan.
Its claws aimed straight for his throat. Watching its massive arm swing toward him, Encrid stepped back.
“Hoo.”
He steadied his breathing. Gasping for air would only weaken him.
From this point on, it was as though he walked a narrow cliffside path, where neither carelessness nor mistakes could be afforded.
What was needed now?
*Courage.*
The Heart of the Beast pounded within him.
*Thump.*
Even as the Lycans charged and the spearmen closed in from the sides—
Even surrounded by enemies on all sides—
There was no reason to falter. After all, it was a battlefield of his own making.
*What’s next?*
He sharpened his senses, stretching beyond the limits of his five senses to the domain of the sixth.
He had to dodge the claws and spear thrusts coming from behind as well.
And so he did.
With his left foot stepping forward, Encrid swung his sword horizontally.
It wasn’t a powerful slash.
*Clang!*
But it was enough to deflect the claws of a charging Lycan.
Pivoting on his left foot, he executed a northern-style passing step to evade.
Normally, this would have been the moment to counterattack, to break the arm or weapon of the opponent striking at his back with a downward slash.
*Not this time.*
Instead, he bent low, almost crouching.
*Whoosh!*
A Lycan’s claws sliced through the air just above his head.
By now, Encrid’s eyes were half-closed, his vision blurry.
If anyone were watching closely, they might say his eyes resembled those of a fish pulled onto land.
*Focus.*
This wasn’t about focusing on a single enemy. Encrid’s method for survival was something else.
*Broaden it.*
He spread the sharp edge of his concentration outward, encompassing everything within the range of his sword.
Victory in battle depended on judgment, distance, timing, and positioning.
He judged in the moment.
He gauged the distance between himself and his enemies.
He calculated the time it would take for his feet to move, for the enemy’s weapon to reach him, and for his sword to strike its mark.
And he identified his current position as well as where he would need to stand next.
This was how Encrid danced alone in this battlefield.
Occasionally—
*Clang.*
A Lycan’s claws met his blade.
A spear scraped against the side of his gambeson.
Claws narrowly missed his throat.
Enemies tried to stomp on his feet.
But Encrid cut down no one.
Even when his feet were nearly stomped on, he only gave a light shove with his shoulder to push the attacker back.
And the result?
“Guhhh!”
A soldier’s dying scream echoed.
A Lycan sank its teeth into the neck of the soldier Encrid had shoved away.
Blood sprayed everywhere, splattering the beast’s face.
It wasn’t something Encrid had intentionally orchestrated.
He simply kept dodging. And dodging again.
*Growl!*
When a Lycan tried to bite his shoulder, he crouched to avoid it.
*Snap!*
He heard the beast’s teeth snap shut and then pushed it back as he stood.
And that—
*Thud! Thud! Thud!*
*Shriek!*
A spear stabbed deep into the Lycan’s belly—the one that had been targeting Encrid.
Encrid wasn’t attacking; he was putting all his energy into evasion.
As he moved gradually from the center to the battlefield’s edge, the Lycans had no choice but to focus on the spear-wielding humans.
Meanwhile, the spearmen had no choice but to engage the Lycans.
And this entire scene was clearly visible to Torres and Finn, who weren’t far off.
“…What the hell.”
“He’s insane. Completely insane.”
Torres and Finn alternated between speaking, unable to take their eyes off Encrid’s movements.
Encrid kept dodging, and dodging again.
Occasionally, the spear shafts struck him, and claws grazed his body.
But he narrowly avoided anything fatal. No critical wounds.
Above all, look at what he had created in the center with just his overwhelming presence and a few words.
The clash between the monsters and the elite soldiers had devolved into utter chaos.
“The humans might win this.”
After all, they were elite troops.
Even though their formation had broken, the soldiers grouped into threes and fours to cover each other’s backs.
This allowed them to recover some of the stamina they’d lost while running.
They formed groups with shields and spears to counterattack effectively.
It was working.
Then Roger moved.
Facing three or four Lycans alone, he impaled one through the head with a spear.
He abandoned his long spear for a shorter one and tore through the beasts like a raging tiger.
“If we leave him be…”
It was clear Roger was heading straight for Encrid.
Even without looking, Finn knew his eyes would be filled with murderous rage.
After all, being mocked about his hair always sent him into a frenzy.
“That crazy bastard.”
“We’ve got to help him.”
Torres shouted with determination at Finn’s muttering.
By then, the enemy commander, Roger, had charged fearlessly toward Encrid, thrusting his short spear.
“Ah!”
Finn let out a sharp gasp.
From her perspective, it looked like the spear had plunged deep into Encrid’s side.
“Damn. No, he dodged it.”
Torres corrected her. And he was right—it had been a misunderstanding.
The spear was caught between Encrid’s arm and his side. He had evaded and trapped the weapon with his forearm and torso.
It looked like a close call.
A crisis narrowly avoided.
At least, that’s how it appeared to Torres.
